


You Would Never Be That

by CherryMilkshake



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Study, Dragon Age Quest: Demands of the Qun, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryMilkshake/pseuds/CherryMilkshake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You got to pick your name, The Iron Bull."<br/>"Sure did. Thanks for sticking the "the" on there, too. Most people forget. It kinda makes it sound like I'm not really a person. Like I'm this dangerous <i>thing</i>, you know?"<br/>"You made it a joke on yourself, making a mockery, so you would never be that."<br/>"It kills the joke if you explain it, kid."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Would Never Be That

**Author's Note:**

> Or, how Bull and [Inquisitor Trevelyan](http://cherrymilkshake.tumblr.com/post/121702192784/ahh-look-at-her-lady-amelia-why-yes-i-see-just) became friends and how that impacted a certain quest down the line.
> 
> Or, you can move to the shallow end of the Homestuck fandom, but pale shipping with remain with you forever.
> 
> (There's the _barest_ mention of Bull/Dorian, but if that is squick material to you, here's your warning.)

When the Iron Bull met the Herald of Andraste, he knew instantly how bad her sight was. It oozed from her fighting style, the way she kept her head tilted down and her ears up, the way she was constantly moving her head to listen, and the way she always knew there were enemies behind her.

He wondered if her companions knew, or suspected.

She took off her helmet as she approached, smearing blood on her face with the bottom of her hand. The Herald was of Rivaini descent, judging by her features. Broad, flat nose, full lips, wiry hair. But it was yellow instead of black, and her skin was milky pale. Albino then, he mused. The near blindness made sense then.

Her eyes were the deep blue of a still lake under a cloudless sky, and were pointed in the direction of his horns, rather than his face. "Amelia Trevelyan," she said as an introduction. "You must be Iron Bull."

" _The_ Iron Bull," he rumbled. "But yes."

There was a scar across her cheek, almost a crescent, following the curve of her eye. A thrown knife he guessed, or else failing to completely dodge a sword thrust. "So, why should the Inquisition hire you?" she asked. She certainly got right to the point.

Bull gave her the spiel he had planned, right down to telling her he was Ben-Hassrath. To her credit, she didn't turn him away, nor blindly trust him. Suspicious, but willing to take risks. Probably a noble of some kind, he thought. Not an heir, not nearly cautious enough for that, maybe a second or third child. She was carrying a chip on her shoulder, but he couldn't quite suss out what it was yet.

They came to an agreement and got their asses moving out of the Storm Coast. As they began the journey down to Haven, Bull walked up beside where the illustrious Herald was riding on her horse. 

"So," he said conversationally. "You've got a pretty unique fighting style. You compensate damn well."

"For?" she asked, but she didn't hide the brittleness of her voice very well.

"You know what for," Bull said. 

She sighed. "I suppose I should be thanking you for your discretion."

"Discretion is kind of my thing." He laughed. "Surprisingly enough."

"Yes, you certainly don't look it," she agreed. "So, what do you want, in exchange for your silence?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to compliment you."

She snorted. Definitely a third child. "No you didn't. You wanted me to know that you knew, so I would trust your future insights."

Bull grinned. Yes, he definitely liked this one. "Maybe that too." 

"Well, now I know. Anything else you need?"

"Just curious how you cope. I like seeing how people work with problems." He wiggled the stumps on his hand up toward the eye patch. 

She took a deep breath, focused her gaze forward. "Well, reading is difficult at times. I can do it, but it takes an inordinate amount of time."

Bull nodded. "I can imagine."

"Generally, Josephine assists me with that, when there's something that needs immediate attention."

"I see. How _did_ you learn to fight? I saw a little templar influence on your style, but not a huge amount."

Some of the soldiers nearby were watching them, furtive gazes and twitchy body language indicating they felt like they were eavesdropping on something they shouldn't hear. "You know what, Boss?" Bull said before she could answer. "Why don't we continue this back at Haven?"

"Of course." She was unperturbed. Interesting. She projected a stoic facade, but there was a much more emotional person underneath. That, combined with the eclectic group of people that seemed to make up her "inner circle", meant that he was in for quite an interesting experience.

\--

"So, templar reject, huh?"

Trevelyan exhaled sharply, her mouth a hard line. There was the chip then. Rejection. Not an uncommon one, especially if the third child was promised to the Chantry or some tradition like that. Human nobles were fucking weird.

"I take it the sisterhood didn't suit you?"

She actually laughed at that. "Can you see me in that getup? No one would take me seriously."

Krem piped up from where he was perched on the pen fence. "I think you could pull off the weird hat," he said amiably. "Well, the colors would look nice at least. You're way too buff for the robes though."

Bull roared with laughter. "I can just imagine you accidentally ripping up the sleeves with a good flex!"

Trevelyan snorted, rolling her eyes. " _Regardless_ , no, I wasn't keen to join the sisters, so I kept training on my own."

"Krem here could help you, if you want." Bull reached over to ruffle his lieutenant's hair. "Unless you'd rather skip right up to the heavyweight class." He grinned and slapped his bare stomach.

"Gross, Chief. No one wants to see you jiggle like that."

Trevelyan raised a blonde eyebrow. "No offence, Bull, but you're not hard to hit, poor sight or no."

Krem cackled, the little asshole. "I'm up for starting now if you are, Your Worship," he said, hopping down to the ground.

Trevelyan took her shield off her back and slid it onto her arm. "Let's go then."

"Play nice, kids," Bull said as they made their way over to an empty area in front of the makeshift armory.

Krem made a rude gesture over his shoulder. " _Yes_ , Mother!"

Bull spent the next hour yelling advice at them. He wasn't out to inflate Trevelyan's ego, but for someone largely self-taught and nearly blind, she was damn good.

\-- 

Over the next few months, shit went down, as was expected when the Fade and demons and magic shit were involved. Skyhold was nice though. It had a good feeling to it, though Bull didn't want to think about that too much because thinking about the fortress being somehow magical just creeped him out.

Now-Inquisitor Trevelyan was a tough nut, didn't let anyone see her squirm. It was pretty great. It made Bull a little sad that he probably wouldn't get the chance to bed her, what with how she was around the Commander. It didn't bother him much though. The Commander was so tightly wound that a good lay was probably exactly what he needed to keep his sanity.

One evening, Trevelyan walked into the tavern with a spring in her step, and ordered herself something strong. Bull sat down next to her, smiling. "Something good happen?"

She smiled back at him and raised her mug. "I found out what color Cullen's eyes are." Her smile turned to a grin. "And what his mouth tastes like."

Bull clinked their mugs together. "Good job, Boss. Gotten laid yet?"

She laughed. "No, but soon, I hope. The preview was… tantalizing." 

"Why, Boss, did the noble Lady Trevelyan just make a joke about someone's _unmentionables_?"

She smirked. "Perhaps. A lady never tells. Maybe I just saw him shirtless. You'll never know."

Bull made a thoughtful noise as he stared at her face. "Nope, you definitely got your hips up against his and liked what you felt. Ben-Hassrath instincts, I've got you pegged."

She laughed again. 

"You know, Boss, love is a nice look on you."

"Thank you, Bull." She sipped her drink. "Speaking of such things, you and Dorian, huh?"

"Me and Dorian," Bull said with a contented sigh. "To getting laid!" Bull said, extending his mug. "Anaan!"

"To getting laid in the not-so-distant future," she agreed, then finished her drink. "Cabot, another of the same please."

The dwarf obliged. 

Bull was pretty sure singing started happening at some point, maybe some dancing. He woke up in his bed the next morning, squinting at the sunlight filtering through the hole in the wall. His head ached, but the memories were pleasant.

It had been a long time since he'd felt at home anywhere. Seheron had been complete nug shit. Orlais was tolerable, but way up its own ass. But Skyhold and the Inquisition… It made him think of those foggy childhood memories of the little herd of children he'd grown up with, all under the watchful eye of his Tamassran. 

As much as shit didn't make sense here (and it definitely didn't), it felt right in a way that he hadn't known in far too long. 

There was a knock at the door. When he opened it, an elf he'd never seen before was holding out a scroll. Before he could ask what it was about, the messenger was gone. The vellum was soft against his fingertips, different than the sort they used in southern Thedas. This was qalaba skin, no doubt about it.

This was no quick report from a fellow Ben-Hassrath. This was a message from Par Vollen and the Ariqun.

For a long moment, he didn't want to unroll it. 

He liked being The Iron Bull. He liked drinking and he liked his Chargers, and he was looking forward to understanding better just how to push Dorian's buttons. He had barely even thought of the Qun in months.

… 

He wasn't going Tal-Vashoth. He refused the very thought.

He unrolled the scroll. 

\--

The Inquisitor's arms were crossed, her lips pressed tight together. "An alliance with the Qunari, huh?" she said, half to herself. "It sounds too good to be true, to be honest. What's their angle?"

Bull kind of loved this little blind human and her suspicious nature. "Normally, I'd agree with you," he said. "But they mean it. Corypheus and his Venatori, plus all this red lyrium business is bad news, even to the Qun."

She rubbed her chin. "Well, then I suppose there's no harm in meeting with their representative. What do they want us to do?"

So, Bull told her.

\--

Bull had mixed feelings about seeing Gatt again. On one hand, it was good to see the elf alive and well, the image of the man he was now containing echoes of the boy he'd rescued from that Tevinter ship. But on the other, it did bring up uncomfortable memories of Seheron that he'd thought he'd left behind a long time ago.

Reeducation was supposed to fix him, get rid of this… discomfort. Why hadn't it?

The Inquisitor had brought Solas along as their squad mage, mistakenly believing he would manage to say civil. Instead, he spat like a wet cat the entire time they made their way to the rendezvous point.

Bull could see the Inquisitor's patience draining rapidly, and when Tevinter soldiers came into view, she was all too happy to jump into the fray. They made quick work of them, and made it to the signal point without much fuss.

Krem and the Chargers had already taken their post. Bull was proud of his ragtag little band. Gatt teased him about giving the Chargers the easier job, but hey, they were his boys.

The dreadnought drifted in out of the fog, starting to fire on the Tevinter boat, not nearly big enough to be called a ship. 

His blood ran cold when he saw the Tevinter mages appear from caves far below them. They were advancing on the Chargers' position. Even with Dalish on barrier duty, there were too many of them, and the mages had the advantage of distance. His heart throbbed painfully.

"They have to hold that position, or the Vints will be able to regroup," Gatt said warningly.

"I know!" Bull snapped.

The Inquisitor was squinting down at the beach. "What's going on?" she asked roughly, ripping her helmet off as if it would help her see. 

"Venatori mages moving in on the Chargers' position," Bull said in a controlled voice. "They'll be killed."

"They have to hold it, Hissrad," Gatt said again. The old name burned in his ears. Was he the same man who patrolled Seheron so long ago? 

"They're _my men_ ," Bull growled. He was _responsible_ for them. 

The spirit whispered beside him, causing him to start, stomach flipping. "Arrow in the neck, life gurgling out before he even had a chance. My fault, should have gone first. My fault, my fault, _my fault_."

Gatt didn't notice him. "They're soldiers, Hissrad. They know the risks."

The mages continued to advance. Krem and the others had weapons drawn. He could see Dalish ready to throw up at barrier at the first fireball. But it wouldn't be enough. She couldn't protect all of them for long.

Still, Grim and Krem took the front, shielding Dalish and Skinner. Farther back, he could just make out Rocky, readying a bomb to throw, and Stitches preparing more poultices. None of them were retreating. They wouldn't do it without his say-so. 

Bull's hand was on the horn at his hip. Gatt saw it.

"If you do that, you'll be throwing away this alliance, Hissrad. I _stood up_ for you. Half the Ben-Hassrath think you've turned already, but I told them you'd _never_ become Tal-Vashoth."

Bull clenched his teeth, staring fixedly at Krem, armor glinting through the mist and rain.

For some reason, something the spirit kid said floated across his mind. _The armor is right. The body isn't, but it doesn't hurt him anymore. You make it better._

He remembered Gatt the little boy, splattered with his old master's blood, smiling up in wonder at Bull, then Hissrad, and his men.

He remembered the burning, wet touch of blood pouring down his face as he pulled the flail free of his eye socket, glancing back at the nameless person he had saved, resignation now turned to fierce hope on his face.

"You need to do what's right, Hissrad," Gatt continued, plaintively. "For this alliance and for the Qun."

He looked helplessly at the Inquisitor. She looked back. "They're your men," she said. "You decide."

"But the alliance?" he asked weakly.

The distant thoom and crackle of a fireball hitting Dalish's barrier made his ears ache.

"We don't need the Qunari to succeed in our mission," she said.

Bull blew the horn. The Chargers pulled back into the trees, out of the range of enemy fire. Bull's heart started beating again.

Furious, Gatt paced. "All these years, Hissrad. And you throw away all that you are, for what? For _them_?!" He jabbed a finger toward the Inquisitor. 

Staring him down, she replaced her helmet. "His name is Iron Bull," she said with finality. 

"I suppose it is." 

Bull knew he should feel upset over Gatt's disappointment, but as he walked away, all he could feel was relief that his boys were safe, and disgust at himself for turning away from the Qun. 

The Inquisitor started making plans. "Solas, Cole, after the dreadnought sinks—"

Bull held out his hand, cutting her off. "Qunari dreadnoughts don't sink," he said. 

As if cued, all the cannons went off at once, turned to fire upon the ship itself. 

Bull sighed. He didn't know what he was feeling anymore. He imagined the people on that ship judging him as they died for his own selfishness. He almost blamed the Inquisitor, leaving him to choose like that, but she hadn't known. He had. 

"Let's get the beach cleaned up, guys," she said. "Bull, go find the Chargers and make sure they're all right."

"Yes, Boss." He started walking back to the path.

"And Bull?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"I'm proud of you."

 _Why?_ he thought dully. 

"Really," she pressed. "That's what I would have done. They're your family."

 _Family,_ he thought. Qunari didn't have families. 

He made his way back to the initial meeting point. Stitches was patching up everyone. "Hey, Chief," Krem said, getting up from where he was sitting on a rock. "Good timing on your signal, but what about the alliance?"

"Eh, they probably would've just used the alliance as leverage to get a foothold for an invasion down here. The new Arishok is a clever man, and the Ariqun is listening. No way they would just aid the Inquisition and leave. Ben-Hassrath aren't that generous."

"Well, you'd know best, Chief," Krem said easily. He stretched, then groaned and curled back up as he felt something out of place. "Do you know if we're heading back to Skyhold right now, or if we're camping here 'til morning?"

"No idea, sorry."

Krem sighed, poking at the place that hurt through his armor. Bull knew he didn't like to take it off in public. He prefered to have Stitches look him over in the privacy of his own room or tent. 

"Tell you what, take it easy, keep an eye on things, and I'll go find the Inquisitor and ask."

"Thanks, Chief."

"Oh, and Dalish?"

She looked up from where she was doing something spooky to her staff (Bull was pretty sure Dorian had a name for it. Cleansing maybe?) "Yes, Chief?"

"Good job back there, keeping everyone from being on fire."

She smiled. "Thanks, Chief."

As he walked down to the beach, catching sight of the Inquisitor stabbing one last mage through the gut, he searched through his feelings for regret. But it was nowhere to be found.

\--

On the ramparts of Skyhold, after tossing those two half-assed assassins over the side, the Inquisitor asked him how he was doing. He didn't really know.

He didn't regret saving his boys.

Everything else though? That was a snarl of shit so messed up he didn't know why Cole wasn't just following him around constantly, though he was grateful he wasn't.

She smiled gently. "You know you haven't changed, right?" she said.

Bull grunted. "For now."

"If you try to go all crazed Tal-Vashoth on us, I'm happy to give you a solid shield bash to the face. And you _know_ Dorian would give you a good zap to the ass."

Bull chuckled. "Thanks, Boss. Hopefully I won't need either of those things, but I appreciate it."

"I'm always happy to hit you with another stick if you need it, as well," she said warmly.

That got a real laugh out of him. He ruffled her short, springy hair. "I'll let you know, Boss. I'll let you know."

She smiled, shoving his hand away. "I'm about to go for a ride with Cullen and you mess up my hair. Rude."

"Oops, here, I'll fix it." He patted it upwards until it was mostly even again. 

She reached up to check it over. "Thank you. So, are you good?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "I'm good."

It wouldn't quite be true for a little while longer, but he was confident it would be in the end.


End file.
